


Blanket of Stars

by Maygra, Melina



Category: Highlander
Genre: Anniversary, M/M, hl, joy, maygra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-03-06
Updated: 1998-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maygra/pseuds/Maygra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melina/pseuds/Melina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days bring only joy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blanket of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> No torture, no angst, no serious emotional issues, just love and tenderness and stuff. Hey, it's their anniversary and they deserve a day off. The authors were the only beta readers, and all mistakes are definitely ours.

_ "Are the stars just pinholes in the curtain of night?" _

          -- Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez

_March 6, 1998  
The interstate 80 freeway near Napa, California_

"MacLeod, you're going the wrong way," Methos noted.

His lover shook his head. "Nope, I'm not."

The older Immortal was mildly confused. "Yes, you are. San Francisco is west, and you turned east."

"We're not going back to San Francisco." Duncan replied reasonably.

"Oh? Then where are we going?"

"You'll see." Duncan glanced over at him, smiling a patented MacLeod smile, complete with rich brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

Methos raised an eyebrow, but sat back in his seat, fully aware that he wasn't going to get any further information out of his stubborn Scottish mate until Duncan was good and ready to share it. He gazed out the window, the freeway lights casting shadows over the rolling northern California countryside.

Methos and his lover had spent a pleasant but busy week in San Francisco. Duncan had business affairs that required his personal attention, and Methos had canceled a few of his classes and found colleagues to cover the rest in order to accompany him. Duncan's meetings and appointments had kept him occupied during business hours all week, and while Methos welcomed the chance to explore San Francisco on his own, they hadn't had much time to spend together. Duncan's engagements had required day trips as far away as Palo Alto and San Jose, and on several evenings he had returned to the hotel late and tired.

Oh, there hadn't been any quarrels, and their sex life was as intensely physical and emotional as ever, but Methos had been looking forward to wandering San Francisco with Duncan. Seacouver was fairly tolerant of its same-sex couples, but San Francisco was on an entirely different level. The chance to get out and explore without having to resist the urge to share a touch or a brief kiss in a public place was highly appealing to Methos, but thus far, their outings had been limited to late dinners and early breakfasts.

Today had been a particularly difficult day to be alone. Although neither man had yet acknowledged the occasion, this was a special day, and Methos had grown somewhat morose as he explored the bookstores and shops in the Noe Valley and Castro districts on his own. At about three in the afternoon, his cell phone rang unexpectedly. Methos' mood immediately improved when Duncan told him that he was finished for the day, and Methos had returned to their hotel immediately.

Methos entered the hotel suite to find Duncan sitting on the sofa, reviewing a stack of papers. Methos went directly to the sofa and pushed the documents aside to make room for himself on Duncan's lap. He kissed the Highlander passionately, sliding his arms around the younger man's neck as his tongue gently but insistently parted the soft lips. Duncan was surprised but unresisting, yielding to his lover's urgency.

When Methos finally broke the kiss, Duncan asked, "Wow, what did I do to deserve that?"

"Nothing...I missed you."

"Missed me? I saw you last night, and this morning before I left," Duncan said. Missing him between breakfast and midafternoon was overly sentimental and uncharacteristic for his lover.

"I know, but you've been busy all week and your mind's been on all this...stuff," Methos said, gesturing toward the stack of papers. His voice was matter of fact, not resentful or petulant. The last thing he wanted to do was send the Highlander into a guilty brood, on this of all days. Methos had known that Duncan would be busy on this trip, and if he was lonely, well, he had no one to blame but himself.

Duncan pondered a moment, his eyes raking over his lover's body. "How much did you miss me?"

Methos reached for the clasp on Duncan's belt. "Perhaps I can show you, rather than telling you."

And he did.

~~~~~~~

Around five o'clock, Duncan informed Methos that they had dinner reservations at a country inn located in the nearby Napa Valley. With only a trace of reluctance, the two Immortals left their warm bed to shower and dress for the evening. In keeping with California tradition and the unseasonably warm weather, both men dressed in light, casual clothes.

When Methos inquired as to why Duncan had made dinner plans outside the city, his lover demurred. "A friend recommended the place, that's all. I thought it would be nice to get out into the country."

Dinner in Napa had been at a lovely country restaurant, located several miles off the main road in a shaded glen, surrounded by birch trees. They had arrived outside the inn just in time to see the sun set over the Napa Valley's low hills. It was an extraordinarily clear March day, and the two Immortals stopped and enjoyed the perfect view as the sky turned pink, then orange, then nearly purple as the sun sank below the horizon.

The meal itself had been intimate and thoroughly pleasant, Methos thought, one of many such evenings they had shared since becoming lovers in the fall. Had it only been a few months since his life had changed so profoundly? Life before Duncan seemed a shadowy memory long in the past, a life he had no desire to return to.

They had finally left the restaurant at around 8:30 in the evening, taking the Napa highway back towards the interstate. But instead of heading west towards San Francisco, Duncan had turned east, towards Sacramento.

Methos glanced at his lover once again, who was contentedly humming along with a tune playing on the rented Land Cruiser's stereo system. He smiled to himself. Duncan had many talents, but he was quite tone deaf.

They had been driving east for nearly half an hour. Methos decided to try again for a little information. "Um, Dad, are we there yet?"

Duncan grinned and looked over at him again, taking Methos' hand in his, kissing the pulse point on his wrist before entwining his lover's fingers with his own. "Almost. My, you'd think in five thousand years, you'd have learned a little patience."

Methos merely harrumphed to himself at that, but it wasn't long before Duncan turned off the freeway to a secondary highway, and from there onto a back road, which turned onto yet another back road. He drove about two miles farther before he pulled the truck off the road and parked. "We're here," Duncan said, opening his door.

"We're where?" Methos wondered aloud, looking around. The country lane they were on had no street lights, and there were no houses or other buildings anywhere nearby. As far as he could tell, it was just miles and miles of nothing. "MacLeod, we're nowhere. There's nothing here but a road and a field." The young moon was already beginning to set over the western horizon, and without any other source of light, Methos could barely see beyond the hood of the Land Cruiser.

"Exactly," Duncan replied, opening the back of the truck and removing a large, soft sided bag. Methos was still in his seat, unmoving.

Duncan finally came around to his door and opened it. "Come on, let's go!" He was holding a flashlight, providing the only source of illumination.

Methos sighed and stopped arguing. Duncan led him across the road and onto the grassy field. Fortunately, it hadn't rained for several weeks, and the ground was firm and dry. They walked for a few yards, and then Duncan stopped and looked around, nodding to himself. He dropped the bag and opened it, pulling out an oversized blanket which he spread out on the ground. "Make yourself comfortable," he said.

His lover was completely mystified. "A picnic, at night, MacLeod? And we just had dinner..."

Duncan settled onto the blanket, pulling Methos down beside him, and shook his head. "Not a picnic. Just wait for a few minutes."

Methos relaxed against his lover's firm chest, listening to the sounds of his breathing. He closed his eyes, enjoying the silence of the countryside. He had almost dozed off when he heard Duncan say quietly, "Open your eyes."

He blinked a few times as his pupils became fully adjusted to the darkness. Methos opened his eyes fully and became completely enthralled with the sky above him. He saw stars, not the city stars he had grown accustomed to, but thousands, even millions, of brilliantly shining stars. This was the sky of his birth, a sky truly revealed without the reflections of modern civilization to hide it from human eyes. It had been a long time, far too long, since he had stood outside and gazed at the night sky as it truly was. How could Duncan possibly know how much this sight would mean to him? His breath caught and his eyes burned slightly as tears threatened.

Duncan wrapped his arms tightly around Methos when he heard his sigh, and drew him close. "Happy anniversary, Methos," he whispered into his lover's ear.

Methos turned in Duncan's arms to face him. "You did remember."

Lips brushed Methos' forehead. "Of course I did. How could I forget a day that changed my life forever? March 6, 1995."

His fingers spread across Duncan's face, lightly touching the dark skin, feeling the slight roughening from a day's growth of beard. He let them trail upward, into the thick, dark hair, pulling Duncan's mouth more firmly against his, inviting him in, tasting him, suckling on his tongue softly and then with more force as he lay back. Remaining silent, Methos tried to show Duncan with his mouth and hands how much his life had changed as well. Any words would seem trite, anything less than all he had to give, insufficient.

Their mouths parted and Methos looked up. Duncan's face was all shadows and highlights from the setting moon, framed by the stars in the sky above, the edges blurring until he looked like he carried the stars with him and they danced off his hair.

There had been a time in Methos' life when he thought the gods came from those stars, trailing the tiny pinpoints of light behind them like a mantle. It had awed him them, it awed him now, almost, but not quite, like fear. Reverence for something not necessarily holy but sacred.

"'The morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy,* Methos said softly. "I think I know how they felt," he added, reaching once more to touch Duncan's face only to have his lover turn his head to kiss his palm.

"Are you going to quote scripture at me?" Duncan asked with a smile.

"I could toss poetry at you instead," Methos said. "Right now, I think I could be inspired to write poetry for you." He smiled and saw it returned on the shifting shadows that were Duncan's face. "I have no words for thee or thine, for all I see is past divine. And were thy soul revealed to me, still thy heart would be a mystery.'"

"Would it, now?" Duncan asked him and bent down to brush his lips across Methos' tenderly, catching his lover's lower lip between his teeth for a brief moment. "No mystery. All my heart and soul lies within you," he whispered against Methos' mouth.

Once more the long, graceful fingers came up to frame Duncan's face, to pull him close, and Methos sighed with contentment as his lover aligned his body along Methos', Duncan bearing up some of the weight on his hands for a moment until he got an arm around his slender lover and rolled them to the side, facing one another.

It progressed slowly, the slide from wonder into grace into need and desire, where hands finally reached for bared skin, fingers stroking out rhythms that increased with suddenly quickening heart rates. Methos felt he was drowning and for once in his life was glad to do so as Duncan's breath surrounded him, the scent of him filling nostrils and mouth and lungs, the feel of him seeming to penetrate beneath his skin. There was a breathless moment when they sat up to discard shoes and socks, so awkward a discarding of clothing it would surely break the mood, only he found Duncan's hand on his ankle, the fingers moving to trail along his instep with such a hazy caress, the touch alone sent a shiver up Methos' spine and left his lips parted, only to find Duncan's tongue slipping between them to send a moister version of the same caress along the inside of his cheek.

Duncan closed his eyes briefly during the kiss, giving in to the feeling of Methos' fingers dancing along the bared skin of his waist, dragging upward and sending all sensation in the opposite direction. He was very nearly uncomfortable, his jeans had become so tight, the heat trapped beneath the fabric certain to melt him into the ground if not into his lover. The latter would be preferable, he decided without much argument, pushing slightly, and he almost laughed at the obedient compliance as Methos lay back. Pale skin, always the color of cream and moonlight, now took on a glow, like some silvered god, accented only by the dark hair on his head and the darker color of his jeans. He might have been some fey faerie creature come to steal Duncan's soul, but it would be the easiest theft in history. His eyes reflected the starlight above, the wonderful color lost under a potent light-filled darkness and Duncan had to touch for the sudden fear that if he did not, this creature that had so thoroughly taken over his senses would waver and vanish, leaving him to stand alone against the endless expanse above him.

Urgency and reverence drove his hands to the waistband of the denim, the barest touch prompting his lover to arch toward him as Duncan pulled the silver snap and parted the fabric to reveal even paler skin, only the merest shadow beginning. Methos lifted his hips and the cloth slid free, his own hands coming up to offer Duncan the same escape from the too constricting cloth.

_Oh, God, _Methos thought when his lover was bared beside him, skin gold flecked and shadow, the already light sheen of sweat bringing out the nuances of light every time Duncan moved. His hand reached out to touch the hard silken flesh that rose, liquid already seeping, pearly in the dim light and carrying its own potent spell that rushed through Methos like the wash of opium. He moved up to kiss that smooth fountainhead, savoring the taste of it like ambrosia and felt Duncan's fingers thread through his hair in a soft caress, encouraging, pleading, and he pushed gently.

Duncan could not have resisted if he had tried or wanted to--which he didn't--as Methos' lips teased his erection, then began the slow spiral of feeling down along the length of him, tongue and teeth and lips a perfectly coordinated team of assailants against flesh already weakened by sense and emotion and need. The faintest application of pressure, of suction, had Duncan arching upward, a moan of pleasure on his lips. He felt Methos smile against his skin before completely obliterating any thought Duncan had in his head as the hot mouth descended upon him fully, taking the whole length of him deep inside. His fingers touched the suddenly hollowed cheeks as Methos sucked gently and then slid upward again, tongue dancing around the head, his hand stroking along the column to pull the sheath of skin back. He wanted to return those fiery caresses and kisses but he could not move, or barely. The sudden thrust of his body into that moist warmth was completely outside of his control.

He groaned as the mouth was removed, the night air some cooler than the living sheath that had engulfed him, but he warmed again quickly as he felt a weight settle across his thighs and looked to see his lover straddling him.

It was tempting to bring Duncan off with his mouth, but as the powerful body thrust against him, Methos had the sudden desire and need to feel that same power within himself. His own breath caught at the image and remembered feel of Duncan straining to reach into the very center of him and he moved, aware that his lover was close and not caring, his own rising need sharpened by the movements, by the sounds of pleasure Duncan made. He spread his thighs and his body across his lover's, Duncan's erection rising and rubbing against his own as he leaned forward and adjusted, mouth seeking first a nipple buried beneath the fine thatch of hair on Duncan's chest, then his lover's mouth as he shifted again, hand guiding, body relaxing and opening to the first press of that hard shaft of flesh against his buttocks. He took a breath, sucking out the air from his lover and then pressing back, his own saliva and the still flowing pre-release of fluid providing all the lubricant he needed.

Duncan almost choked. Not from any blockage to his lungs but from the feel. Methos' mouth had been warm and moist but as his body slid into his lover's heat was a misnomer. He felt seared, enflamed, all but taken over by the heat and sensation as the tight ring of muscle yielded then closed around him, holding him, gripping him and then releasing in the same hesitant pattern as Methos' fingers suddenly flexed against his chest. He opened his eyes to see his lover, eyes closed, mouth opened in sheer pleasure as he moved, taking Duncan in and levering himself upward to allow his own weight to press Duncan fully within him. Then the eyes opened and Methos moved his lips as if to speak, but all that came out was a soft, meaningless sound. His eyes locked with Duncan's, one hand reaching out, and Duncan caught the seeking fingers as Methos rose and came forward. Friction between the parting of their bodies was too much and Duncan moved, wanting to regain that closeness, the fit of himself inside the slender form.

Another sound and another attempt and they were moving together, toward the same goal, fingers still interlaced as Duncan reached out to grip then stroke his lover's erection, feeling Methos' hand close over his.

The powerful thighs of his lover kept Duncan from pressing too fast for completion, but it was all he could do not to thrust wildly into the welcoming body. Their eyes remained locked, twin pools of darkness that could not be separated. Methos' body was taut and glistening as he moved, every muscle exposed by the play of light across his torso.

The slender fingers clenched tightly around Duncan's for a moment, and then there was no control left at all as Methos rose up and drove himself down, Duncan feeling the sudden swell and heat in his loins that signaled his body had had all the stimulation it could take. He thrust upward as Methos dropped, his cry lost against his lover's as he felt the first heated spatters of Methos' completion burn his flesh. His own orgasm struck with the swiftness of lightning, easing the friction between them as it should because he could not stop the rapid convulsing thrusts into the tight body as his own body sought release. He had one glimpse of Methos, head thrown back, mouth opened, skin glowing as if he were some otherworld creature--bracing himself with one hand while the other helped Duncan milk the last of his need. Then Duncan could see or feel nothing save the culmination of his own pleasure and release, gripping his lover firmly as a last thrust emptied him of all intent, and nearly robbed him of all sense.

When it returned, the awareness of anything, Methos was curled against his chest, their bodies still partly joined. Lethargy said "no," but Duncan reached up anyway, wrapping his arms around his lover, feeling the sweat slicked skin and damp hair, the minor shudders still racing through the slim body as they were racing through his own. Sweat to chill and Duncan pulled at the edge of the blanket and wrapped them both, then rolled them to their sides again, smiling faintly as Methos' arms came around his neck to hold on for the short ride.

Soft kisses gentled away the feeling of loss that inevitably accompanied the separation of their bodies, and Methos shifted slightly to gaze upward once again. The moon had bade her farewell for the evening, and the sky was even darker than before. The stars were so numerous that the familiar constellations had all but disappeared, the bright stars blending in against their fainter neighbors.

Wrapped around each other and in the black velvet of the infinite vastness above them, Methos' lips found Duncan's once more and captured them in a tender kiss. He wanted to tell Duncan how much this night meant to him, how grateful he was for the day Duncan MacLeod had walked into his apartment three years ago, but words seemed wholly inadequate for the feelings he needed to express.

He opted instead for a simpler sentiment. "Happy anniversary, Duncan."

Duncan's hand captured the slender fingers, entwining them with his own. "Happy anniversary, Methos."

Sudden movement in the vast stillness above them caught their attention, and the Immortals watched as a pair of shooting stars raced across the sky, hurtling towards eternity in the bright light of each other's company.

~ the end ~

*Book of Job, 37:8

_Posted March 6, 1998_


End file.
